Limelight After the Storm
by Estel POI
Summary: Calamity ended and we were left with as many questions as answers. Will Prof forgive David for pushing him into the Darkness? Will David forgive Prof? Can they forgive themselves? This story picks up where Calamity left off, and we get some in-character resolution and character development for David and Prof. And what will become of "Limelight"?


Chapter One

Watching the sun rise, I thought I'd never seen anything so beautiful. Never again would evil and power be glued to one another. I think that metaphor actually makes sense. I heard footsteps approaching, and I turned. It was Prof.

"I suppose," he said, "That the fact I can't undo the horrible, unspeakable damage I've done doesn't mean I shouldn't bind what wounds I can."

"I stood. "I'll change clothes. What supplies should I bring? Is the whole team going on this mission?"

"He stared. "I meant you, David." I blinked.

"I blamed you for my corruption," he said, "I shouldn't have. What I did was my choice, and it's past time to admit my failure was my own. Also, you can't be held responsible for my use of a power you had never experienced."

"I..." I couldn't speak. "I forgive you. It wasn't your fault you accused me, it was Calamity's. But if it's what you want, I forgive you."

He nodded once. I continued. "Will you please forgive me? Thank you for taking it back, but it _was_ my fault, mine more than anyone's. I egged you on when you'd ordered me and begged me to stop. If I'd shut up, you wouldn't have cracked until at least after we'd found the key to driving back the darkness. I'm sorry. I guess I'm asking you to forgive me for everything that's happened."

"He opened his mouth and closed it again. Now _he_ was speechless. "I accept your apology," he finally said. "I hadn't thought of that, of how we might have found the cure soon enough, even if my fall was otherwise inevitable. But I forgive you."

We stood in silence for a long time, facing each other. Cody walked up, probably to suggest Prof should go heal Abraham, but even Cody felt too awkward to interrupt that... conversation. Finally, I decided that the one who hadn't been flogged with the chain for years should be the one to pick it up. Well, to pick up a different chain anyway. Not the heaviest to be fair, and- Anyway, I embraced him.

I watched him walking off toward Abraham in the infirmary tent. Mizzy was nearby, sorting supplies. She'd told Prof what we'd done since he went insane, and she'd made a point of conveying that I'd been dead set on healing him, that I'd tried to protect Tia, and that the reason I was in charge had nothing to do with lust for power. It's nice, when it's not awkward, being a hero to someone.

Prof stepped out of the tent, and Abraham followed. Abraham threw his arms around Prof, who did likewise and began to weep. I could hear him sob even at that distance. Of course it would be Abraham who he could let himself cry with. Other than Tia. That made no sense, Tia was dead, and that was why he was crying, for sure. I had forgotten. emI/em was crying now. A little.

I walked back toward camp. As I approached, Cody offered Prof a shoebox. He took it, and pulled out Tia's favorite socks, a journal in her handwriting, pictures of her as a child, and a plastic action figure she seemed to have modified to look like Prof and rigged with a pair of green Christmas lights, one on each hand.

And a ring.

I had to stop walking. There was enough emotion in the camp without mine. I stood as Prof bent double and Abraham gripped his arms.

Once I'd pulled myself together, I patted Abraham and Prof on the shoulders and congratulated them quietly on Abraham's arm./

"I need a word," Prof said sharply.

That surprised me. Hadn't we just had a word? He grabbed my arm and led me away from camp.

"I deserve to be in jail," he said. "Hell, I deserve the death penalty. But I won't get it, because they can't kill me, and they won't invent one-off execution methods to kill convicted Epics. They have to follow the law. Never mind. I want you to know that if I _ever_ hear you advocating for immunity for Epics to continue, I will have your head. If you try to keep me from jail, you're dead to me."/

I gulped. "Prof. If you go to jail - " He snarled. "If you go to jail you won't be able to heal the people you've wounded. You healed Abraham and you apologized to me. Big deal. You hurt lots of people, and if you're in jail you won't be able to use your healing powers on them. The harmsway doesn't work as well as you in the flesh. And you've left damage to buildings. Even if you can't fix those singlehandedly, people might need your tensors and your force fields to speed the rebuilding along. You owe it to people, okay?"

"And frankly, there are a lot of other Epics who've done damage you can repair better than they can. A lot of Epics can kill. Not many heal, and nobody can heal as well as you can. Really, no one; read all my notes."

"Even more. All the Epics who've killed people or broken other people's things will have to go to jail when you do. Even though they didn't choose the darkness, not understanding it, anyway, they'll have to go with you. If they change the law, they change it. Why would you want all of them to be imprisoned?"

"He glared. My stomach went cold. "I don't care about other Epics," he said. "I _want_ them to die, remember, David?"  
I almost tried to convince him Megan didn't deserve to die, so neither did others, but thought better of it.

"That isn't what's right," I said, "It's what you feel, and I don't blame you. But it isn't right. Also... " I kicked off the ground and flew about eight feet above the ground. His eyes widened and and he inhaled sharply. Looking down at him I said, "We can't hate Epics. We _are_ Epics. And yes, you want to hate yourself. But you should focus on seeing that the team doesn't get convicted for being vigilantes. That's what I'll focus on. Before that, you heal the wounded. After, we can both help rebuild. And if you want, we can fight evil Epics, or you can teach fifth graders why chemicals explode, or you can do anything."

Mizzy had joined us. "I don't think you should go to jail, Jon Phaedrus," she said, "because you don't deserve to, even if you feel like you do. I don't think jail will make you feel less guilty, because you didn't do anything wrong. Prison isn't paying for anything unless you have something to pay back, a crime you need punished for. It wouldn't punish your crime, even if you pretend it does, because emyou didn't hurt anyone/em. And if you feel bad for the people who have died, you can give yourself a gumdrop and a dead lizard, because that would balance the scales of justice for you just as much as prison, and then some."

She gave me a weird look. "You're rubbing off on me. Sparks, David."

Prof stood, looking pensive. Then he took Mizzy's arm and shot a forcefield disc beneath them. "I suppose you've won," he said, "I can't see a way around it. I shouldn't go to prison, I can't be executed or kill myself, and I can't go home and cry. I don't _have_ a home. But you're losing your edge: you've convinced me to strike forth, yet again, but this time you needed help from Mizzy. Raise your game."

"I think we have work to do."

Chapter Two

Six months later, I stood outside the doors to the U.S. Capitol building. This was the new one, rebuilt by several Epics including Prof and me. He had used tensors and forcefields to cut and support materials, and I had used wind to lift building materials and hold them in place until I could turn them into steel welded one piece to another. It was beautiful. Epic powers had allowed us to built a structure far more magnificent than the original building, and other Epics had added brilliant colors, perfect reproductions of famous artwork, permanent lighting without an electrical source - though the light was only needed when the sun from the many windows didn't reflect in a thousand steel mirrors, beginning from a different window at different times of day and year, but reflecting at angles again and again regardless. Epics were cool, but I had to give it to the architect, Philipe Alexander: he was at least as amazing.

Families with children in wheelchairs, mothers with oxygen tanks, stood bunched nearby. They were in no hurry; people came to Prof for healing all the time, and he'd never failed to heal a one before it was too late. They let him be, gave us space.

"I still think you should accept the Alexander Fleming Medal." It was Senator Lunes of Texas. He fingered something in his pocket.

"I didn't create my powers." Said Prof. "And for all the people I've healed, there are many I killed and can't bring back."

The senator sighed. He'd been on Prof's side all along. Others in Washington had thought Epics should be punished, or at segregated from humanity. But as Prof healed more and more people, growing stronger with practice until he could touch everyone encircling them and not only heal them, but heal a dozen concentric rings of people touching each other with him as the hub, eventually most people in America - including most in the government - knew someone who'd been healed. Prof didn't love himself, but America loved Limelight. Though he hated the name.

"Will you make your trip to Texas soon?" John Lunes asked. "We have a lot of injured people. Sick and injured. Lord Proton left a lot of people with radiation poisoning and we can't tell who will get sick. Cancer just shows up eventually. And all the other Epics, before the Supernova, left other injuries. You've healed most of - "

"I'll be there." Prof said. "But they convinced us we needed a capitol that looked like one, since we were barely a country for a while. Texas comes soon, though I'll heal down the south Atlantic coast first. I'll swing west, after that."

Lunes nodded. Prof had been to Texas before, though after he'd been to most other states. Texas' people were decimated under Calamity; they'd kept attacking Epics like they just didn't know when they were beat. The survivors were healed by Prof, who was on a sort of medical tour.

"I have an idea." I said.

"A symbiotic use of Epic power, or a way to defeat that blasted Vocalstorm holed up in New Mexico, or a new Epic name to replace Limelight?"

"An Epic name for you."

"Go ahead."

"Life Force."

"I like that, sort of. I might use it. But not now."

That was great. He'd rejected any name I'd suggested. It seemed like he didn't want to think of himself as an Epic.

"Here." Said Prof, and I saw him hold out his hand to a one-armed man. I hadn't noticed, but he'd made a forcefield disk and floated us over to the crowd of sick. The people rushed to form a web, holding each other's shoulders. Prof gripped the man's hand, and for a few seconds we waited. Then a man pulled out his trach as the hole in his throat closed. A girl rose from her wheelchair. The man's arm grew back. Families hugged and people clapped.

"Limelight!" People screamed. The crowds turned, looking for the hero. "Life Force!" The healed cried. The new title spread through the crowd.

"I guess I'll take it." Prof said.


End file.
